


Olympic Games

by pajamabees



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Germerica - Freeform, Hetalia, M/M, Platonic Relationships, a few years before the start of world war 2, gerame - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 14:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12170832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pajamabees/pseuds/pajamabees
Summary: Alfred and Ludwig were able to settle their differences after The Great War and become close friends again. But suddenly, Alfred began to ignore Ludwig’s letters, and him in general, for years. Now, it’s the Olympic Summer games of 1936, and Alfred showed up. This is Ludwig’s chance to confront him.





	Olympic Games

**Author's Note:**

> This really has no specific connections to politics between America and Germany in 1936. Just something I think happened between Ludwig and Alfred.

Ludwig could barely pay attention to the games. He sat with a straight back, boots flat on the ground, his hands tense and gripping the fabric of his pants hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. It was becoming impossible to keep a neutral face, harder to fake a smile every time his brother and the other officials next to him erupted in cheers. A player from his country was up, and he might of won, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t even know what game was playing in that moment. The sounds never reached his ears as his entire body filled itself with boiling rage and anxiety. It rapidly increased his heart beat, a tingling sensation traveling from his chest all the way to his finger tips. **  
**

All he could think about was  _him_.

That blond haired, blue eyed man in the aisle to the left of his. That nation with the spectacles on his face. New ones, Ludwig observed. They sat atop his primp nose, and Ludwig could vaguely see how pronounced his freckles had become, like they always did every summer. The blond, America, smiled as someone beside him, Canada he guessed, whispered something in his ear. He could hear his boisterous laugh, even from where he was sitting. He could hear how fake it sounded, could see past his new, stiff outfit - beyond the makeup and to the hollowed cheeks, those thin, nimble fingers. They used to be quite big, like sausages, Ludwig mused. In fact, America himself used to be quite big. Now look at him, Ludwig sniffed. He might be fooling everyone else with that new outfit, but Ludwig can see how it hung off his thin frame like rags.

He wished he could be the one to sit next to him, maybe comfort him, like what friends were supposed to do. But he’s been trying for years now. Letter after letter he would send, only to receive nothing in return. He thought maybe it wasn’t sending, maybe it kept getting lost, or maybe the address was wrong. But it would have been sent back to him if that were the case, so he knows Alfred must receive them. He was ignoring him, and not knowing why haunted him to no end. He must know, and today would be his only chance. So, instead of watching the game and cheering with his brother and fellow comrades, he continued to stare at the American nation, hoping he could feel his eyes boring into his skull and just turn around.

“Look at me,” he mumbled, and the officer in front glanced at him weirdly, but ignored him and returned his attention to the field.

Ludwig was a statue the entire game, his eyes locked on the blond even when Gilbert tried to get his attention. He didn’t move at all until people started getting up and leaving the stadium, because of a break or because it was time to go home, Ludwig didn’t know nor did he care. The only thing he cared about was confronting Alfred. He only cared for answers.

He pushed himself up almost at the same time Alfred did, ignoring his brother’s concerned look and made his way down the aisle. He forced his way through the line of officers, some of them having to sit back down as Ludwig marched through, not caring about his own rudeness. Alfred’s been avoiding him the entire day, so he had to be quick if he wanted to catch him. He knew Ludwig was looking for him.

Ludwig was glad his darkened aura and intense facial expression warded people away from him. It gave him space to easily climb the stairs and catch up to the other nations. He received dirty looks from Britain and France as he rushed past them, but he never saw the looks, only felt them, for he was looking straight ahead at Alfred’s thin frame.

A part of him grieved at the sight; Alfred used to be so big! The last time he saw him, one could see stomach rolls through his shirt. Ludwig remembered, because he would specifically look at them in cute admiration. He especially liked to squeeze around his fat waist when they hugged. Alfred always had the best hugs.

Ignoring the slight pain in his chest at the memory, Ludwig continued onward. Alfred never looked back, but he could see how tense his shoulders were. He knew Ludwig was looking for him. He knew he was behind him. And those shoulders flinched when Ludwig called him by his name, his body stopping in its tracks just outside the stairwell that lead to the exit.

“Alfred,” Ludwig called again, this time quieter as he neared him. He noticed Alfred inhale deeply before turning around, a small, fake smile plastered on his thin face.

“Hey, Germany,” he said in a weak voice, and Ludwig inwardly cringed at the use of his country’s name. He couldn’t remember the last time they were on nation-name basis.

Ludwig stood staring at him for a few awkward moments. Alfred continued looking around; the ground, the wall, Ludwig’s uniform, anything except Ludwig himself. It was really starting to grate on his nerves.

“Nice building,” Alfred lowly whistled, tucking his hands in his suit pocket.

“It’s new,” Ludwig grunted. Alfred made a show of checking out the ceiling, pursing his lips as he still continued to avoid Ludwig’s stare. The crowd around them started to grow as more people from the farthest aisles exited the main area, and Ludwig was getting antsy. He took a step forward, and watched as Alfred flinched and turned his head.

“Well-”.

“Why have you not answered my letters,” Ludwig interrupted whatever it was Alfred was going to say. It wasn’t a question; it was a demand. He wanted answers.

Alfred shuffled his feet nervously, biting the inside of his cheeks. A few moments of silence fell between them, nothing but the small chatter and footsteps of the people around them. Ludwig started walking closer when the other didn’t respond after a few seconds.

“Alfred-”

“You can’t call me that anymore.”

The statement cut the tense air like a loud crack, and Ludwig paused in his footsteps. Alfred huffed and turned around, walking towards the half wall where he stared at the field below. Ludwig stood behind him, eyes baring holes into the back of Alfred’s shiny, blue suit. He was confused, angry, and now hurt. What was wrong with him? What did he do?

“…Alfred,” He started walking again, slower this time, as if any vibration caused by his boots would hurt the smaller blond. There was no response. “Alfred,” he said, firmer this time. He took three more steps until he was close enough to see a loose stitching on the shoulder of Alfred’s suit.

He gently placed a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder, feeling how the muscles there tightened. “Alfred, plea-”

“I said you can’t call me that!” Alfred yelled, yanking his shoulder away and gripping the edge of the half wall. He clenched his eyes and mouth shut before he said something else in a much a quieter voice. “Go away. Please.”

But Ludwig didn’t go away. There he stood, close enough that Alfred could hear his breathing. They hadn’t been this close in a while….

Alfred shook his head, refusing to let memories plague his mind. Not now.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He knew Ludwig would come after him this day, which was why he was hesitant to accept the invitation to the Olympic games. He didn’t want to see Ludwig; he didn’t want to see anyone. But Ludwig the most. And it hurt his heart, knowing it wasn’t really what he wanted, but what he should want. There was no better time than to end it now, he guessed.

The other’s presence still hung over him, almost dangerously, and it made him feel so small. Still, he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. In his head he counted to ten, and in one swift movement he turned around.

Only to immediately back up against the ledge again.

Ludwig was…bigger than he last saw him. His frame towered over him, and he felt like a cowering wolf, bowing down to the alpha male. Icy blues stared straight through his skull, and Alfred caught himself leaning back. He coughed and stood up straighter, trying to collect himself and seem bigger than his small body allowed the eye to see.

“I- uh,” he stuttered, gulping under Ludwig’s intense stare, “I think- I think that….”

_Just say it_! Alfred clenched his eyes shut, his hands forming into fists by his side.  _Say it_!

“I don’t want to be friends!”

Silence. Almost like an abrupt stop to a rainstorm. The tension between them was so thick, one could cut it with a knife. Alfred had a hard time breathing, as if he was underwater. He turned around again to lean over the edge. He needed fresh air. The body behind him was still so close, and he felt trapped.

Ludwig just stared at the back of Alfred’s head, trying to process what exactly Alfred just said…. Coldness spread throughout his entire body. There was a sudden numbness. Everywhere. He couldn’t hear anything, only a ringing in his ears. His vision was a little fuzzy, and he could hear his heart pumping blood to his brain, each heartbeat like a hammer to the skull.

“What?” he asked, and he could barely hear his own voice. Did he hear him wrong? Did Alfred really just say that?

“You heard me….”

Ludwig shook his head. Yes, he had heard him, but he was confused. So very, very confused.

“I…don’t understand. What did I do?”

Alfred didn’t respond. Instead, he curled more into himself, as if he was trying to get as far away from Ludwig as possible. Ludwig, on the other hand, didn’t make another move to touch him, didn’t take another step, didn’t breathe. They both stood like that for what seemed like forever, until Ludwig’s shock slowly change into sadness….

“Why….”

…then to anger.

“Why!” He snapped when Alfred again refused to answer and grabbed his shoulder, whipping him around so fast Alfred’s elbow smashed against the wall. “Tell me why!” He gripped his shoulders hard enough to bruise, not realizing just how much strength he was using. Alfred only winced, keeping his eyes shut as he nurtured his hurt elbow.  

“Answer me!” He yelled in Alfred’s face, causing the other to let out a weak whimper. Ludwig was clouded with confusion; they were friends, best friends. Why suddenly break it off? Why? Why was he not giving him answers? He deserved to know; he needed to know.

“Alfred!” he called again, squeezing harder.

“Let go!” Alfred finally snapped out of his cowardice, gripping the claws digging into his shoulders, desperately trying to throw them off.

But Ludwig never let go, he never loosened his grip. He leaned down, until he was almost nose to nose with the smaller man. “I deserve to know why,” he sneered, “You ignore me for years, then decide you don’t want to friends? Why? Why? Tell me why!”

“Get…off!” Alfred continued to struggle, twisting this way and that. He was starting to panic; he began to feel claustrophobic.

“I deserve to kno-!”

“You don’t deserve shit!”

Alfred spat the words out, anger filling every corner and crevice of his body. He felt strength surge through muscles he forgot he had, strength he thought was lost in the 20s. He ripped those hands from his shoulders in one quick snap, holding them in a vice-like grip between their two bodies.

He finally looked up, glaring into Ludwig’s own icy stare, a similar sneer on his face. “I don’t want to be friends with a nation who involves himself in such politics-!”

“ _Politics_! That’s what this is about!?”  Ludwig was incredulous. Their countries were on good terms! America’s politicians supported the ideals of his own! “Hypocrite!” His fists twisted in Alfred’s hands, and he pushed, forcing Alfred to back up and hit the ledge. Alfred’s body bent as Ludwig leaned over him, but he never released his grip on Ludwig’s cold wrists.

“Your country is doing the same thing! Has always done the same thing!” Ludwig was yelling now, drawing attention from those around them. He was furious, absolutely livid.

“Not every nation has the same views as the country they represent,” Alfred rasped, trying to sit up to no avail. Ludwig only continued pushing down until he was centimeters from Alfred’s face.

“And yet you’ve done nothing about it, have you?” he whispered, his voice lowering to a growl, like the rumbling of an earthquake.

Alfred shook his head ferociously, refusing to let this argument turn against him. He doesn’t want to listen! He will not listen to this! He screamed in frustration, dropping Ludwig’s hands and resorting to pushing against his chest.

“What is going on?!” they heard someone say in a british accent, and Ludwig knew immediately who it was. A hand was pressed firmly to his chest, trying to get between them and push Ludwig away. He could see England in the corner of his eye, yelling something at him. There were fingers gripping his wrist, trying to pry them off of America. He let go, taking a step back as he yanked his wrist from those fingers - France’s fingers.

He was about to barge forward again; he wasn’t finished with Alfred. But all animosity drained from him as he witnessed Alfred sit up, a hand gripping his chest. He had tears in his eyes, and they started to flow as Alfred looked up at him.

“I can’t be there for you like this,” he sobbed, shrugging Arthur’s hands away, “I can’t watch you take so many steps backwards.”

Ludwig didn’t really understand what he meant by that, but his mind was reeling with too many emotions to care. Alfred was crying, sobbing, and hurting…and he had caused it. His instincts kicked in at that moment, and just like that his entire demeanor changed. He pushed Francis away, charging forward again, dodging Arthur as he stepped in front Alfred and….

And leaned down, pushing his forehead against his softly. “Please,” he rasped, clenching his eyes shut as he continued to nudge the other’s forehead with his own, hoping, wishing, for a nudge in return. It was what they used to do, sitting alone together with just the comfort of the other’s presence, complaining about everyone and everything. Spilling their darkest thoughts and secrets. Afterwards, they would bump foreheads - to show that they understood, that they felt the same. Sometimes they would accidentally bump noses, too. Ludwig’s bigger, pointier nose would rub against his unintentionally - sometimes intentionally - against Alfred’s smaller one. Alfred would giggle then, and they would stay like that, foreheads pressed together, their breaths mingling between them until all their anxieties melted away.

“You’re my best friend,” Ludwig whispered, and it was true. Maybe he was something more, he didn’t know; but he did know that what he felt towards him he didn’t feel for anyone else. Everything he shared with Alfred, was only shared with Alfred. The things he’d talked about it…he could never share with Gilbert, or even Italy. His relationship with his brother was loving, but awkward. They weren’t good with sharing feelings. And Italy…he wouldn’t understand. He was a simple man, and he couldn’t comprehend the complex ideas and theories running through his head. But Alfred…he could. And it meant a whole lot to him. To have someone who understood the raging thoughts in his head, someone who could help make sense of them, someone who shared the same rebellious ideas; it was a blessing he never took for granted.

He didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to lose Alfred - his best friend.

His hands found themselves tangled in Alfred’s suit, clenching at the cheap material. He breathed in deeply, expecting the familiar smell of Alfred’s favorite cologne, only to realize he was wearing a different fragrance.

Hands grabbed at his shoulders, and he could hear Gilbert calling his name, but he continued pressing forward, desperate for Alfred to press back. But all he got was a whisper almost too quiet to hear.

“Just let go….”

Ludwig’s face scrunched up as he took a shaky breath, “You’re asking me not to fight for our friendship.”

He could hear Alfred gulp, and he opened his eyes to Alfred staring up him, his baby blues were shiny from crying.

“I’m asking you to take no for an answer,” he croaked, his lips quivering, and Ludwig could feel his ragged breathing. His chest constricted at the meaning behind those words, and he remembered Alfred in his arms, his body shaking with violent tremors as he sobbed silently. That was the night he finally opened up, released so much inner turmoil about his past relations…with humans and nations, how no one took him seriously yet expected so much of him. Most of all, he sobbed about the few instances where they  _didn’t take no for an answer_.

At that moment, Ludwig wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Alfred’s smaller body and hold him close, but instead, he let Gilbert pull him away. He felt dazed as he was lead to the exit, the people around him a blur except for Alfred, who seemed almost too clear for his fixated vision. There he stood, amongst the other nations who glared daggers his way. But not Alfred. He looked on with sad eyes, but not at Ludwig, no. He was looking past Ludwig, into some unknown void. He looked dull, even in his shiny, cheap, blue suit; he looked so small. Or maybe it was Ludwig, Germany, who was too big now.

Even as Gilbert dragged him down the stairwell, towards the open air, and out of the other nations’ line of vision, Ludwig still looked in the direction he knew Alfred was. There was war in the air, that much was certain. Not once did he ever see the glares directed his way, but he felt them, and they were familiar. He didn’t care about that now, though. All he could think about was when the next time he would see his friend, and hoping, praying, that it wouldn’t be on the battlefield.


End file.
